


a White Flag and a Wedding Ring

by GwiYeoWeo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Ardyn is a troll, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Noctis is not amused, and wants a divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 19:30:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwiYeoWeo/pseuds/GwiYeoWeo
Summary: “Really? Even in another universe, you have god awful fashion sense.”“I beg your pardon, but at least my wardrobe has color, unlike your monochrome blacks and grays,Your Majesty.But oh, I suppose you’re no longer royalty here, now are you?”Another life waited for them but not in the afterlife or the Beyond — or anywhere in Eos, for that matter.





	a White Flag and a Wedding Ring

**Author's Note:**

> Sneaking one last ardyn fic before the dlc comes out tomorrow B]
> 
> no beta we die like my heart tomorrow march 26th

“Really? Even in another universe, you have god awful fashion sense.”

“I beg your pardon, but at least my wardrobe has color, unlike your monochrome blacks and grays,  _ Your Majesty.  _ But oh, I suppose you’re no longer royalty here, now are you?”

In the bedroom — their  _ shared _ bedroom — Noctis eyed a tacky red and purple scarf with a white floral print, topped off with knotted tassels that hung at both ends. He held it at arm's length, keeping it pinched between his index and thumb as if further contact would infect him with Ardyn's eccentric fashion sense. Even though clashing prints and eye-bleeding colors were the least of his worries right now. 

But indeed, the man's tastes seemed to carry over all lifetimes and incarnations, in both Eos and parallel universes, so the idea that it could somehow lay its claim on Noctis didn't seem like a far-fetched idea. He was being perfectly reasonable with his necessary precautions, despite what Ardyn's dubious gaze from across the bedroom silently said. Noctis met his eyes with an unamused stare of his own and dropped the scarf, let it pool into itself on their gray carpet like some circus snake, and turned away to look out through the glass door of their balcony. “You're taking this a lot easier than I thought you would, to be honest.”

He squinted against the glaring sun that bounced off their neighboring buildings, all metal skyscrapers and glass boxes. Below, from their high rising suite, he could sense the thrum of life in the city's rushing cars and the purr of the engines, in her black-and-white suits and clicking high heels. 

If he didn't know any better, Noctis would think Umbra returned him to Insomnia, when his darling city was still at her prime and not in old desolate ruins swallowed by daemons and darkness. 

“Yes, well. I'll confess I'm faring no better than you are.” There came the familiar drawl and lilt in Ardyn's voice. 

He crept up from behind, as silently as he ever did, and Noctis wondered how he could  _ still _ be so sneaky without any Scourge or magic to back him up. But more than that, he wondered how he himself didn't flinch or startle or shove or fight, how the trauma and hate from his previous life didn't spur him to retaliate or otherwise defend himself. Though in their last moments together, before he had struck Ardyn down to meet him in the Beyond, that thirst for vengeance had been replaced with empathy and mercy. He had understood. Ardyn was a victim just as much as he was.

When the prophecy said they would be together in death, Noctis had made his peace. But he hadn't signed up to be together  _ after _ death. 

And he definitely didn't sign up to be married — and transported in some parallel universe. 

“No one said anything about all of, uh. This.” Noctis turned around, flinging his hand out with the silver wedding band.

“And since when were the gods ever clear cut?” Ardyn twisted his mouth, his face resembling something of a half scowl. At least he shared the same sentiments and was thrown into the same loop, as much as a small comfort as it was. “Certainly not when we were yet living, so certainly not… After.” 

Ardyn took Noctis’ hand in his, brushing a thumb over the ring. “At least we picked well,” he murmured, admiring his own tastes. 

It was surprisingly tender, both the gentleness of his hand and in his eyes, and even Noctis felt something akin to affection well up in his heart. It was dangerously close to love, he realized. And all too startling. Noctis swallowed, staring down at their joined hands and trying to think of anything but love. “So, you, uh — you remember anything? I'm getting bits and pieces here.”

While his voice came out small and unsure, Ardyn's boomed with that same energy and histrionic manner he so easily commanded. “Apparently we live in a country named the United States, in New York,” he said, one finger tapping his chin and the other waving lazy half circles in the air, “We married at Eighth Eden, and had our honeymoon in Croatia. You fished for hours and got terrible sunburn, but that didn't stop us from getting quite frisky that night and —”

Noctis flailed, rushing to shut Ardyn's obnoxious mouth and cover it with his free hand. “Okay! Okay, yeah, no. Stop right there.” 

But then Ardyn had the  _ audacity  _ to  _ lick _ his palm, which had Noctis barely suppressing the shriek that caught in his throat. “God, I hate it when you do that!” he hissed, immediately recoiling and taking back his hand, then frantically wiping his palm on his pants. Ardyn looked infuriatingly smug. 

He grimaced at his own words, suddenly grasping the weight and the implications. They've done this song and dance before — too many times for him to count — if the flowing memories held any truth to them. It was unnerving, knowing he had spent so many years together with Ardyn. 

Noctis pulled away, withdrawing his hand as if Ardyn's threatened to burn him. And it might as well have, considering the obnoxious heat that crawled up his neck and over his cheeks. Ardyn's implications were one thing, but the tangible memories that came with it were another. He could see them, feel them, remember them so vividly as if they were his very own. Which was problematic. Because he was absolutely positive he lived in the world of Eos, as Prince of Insomnia turned Chosen King, ran across the world and back as he battled beasts and daemons to bring light back to the world, and sacrificed his life to bring Ardyn's down with him. Yet all these past memories clashed with the present, memories of a world entirely different from the one they're in now. 

While he lived in Eos, another version of him apparently lived out his life here, and Noctis just stepped into this reality not even twenty minutes ago and took over. Well, him and Ardyn. 

“I mean, the more important things. Like, all that happened, right? The Scourge and the daemons and getting myself stabbed by thirteen royal weapons? I'm not going crazy?” Noctis huffed, running his hands through his hair and tugging at his strands. He paced along a track through their bedroom, like Ignis once did when the stress got the best of him. 

“I remember too clearly being disintegrated into dust and smithereens,” Ardyn said wryly, ambling up to the balcony door and peering out the glass. 

Noctis hoped he didn't hit a sore spot. He realized, right then, that Ardyn was taking all this more well than he had let on. Ardyn, for two thousand long years, had suffered in agony and hate, and they both knew how much he simply wanted it all to end. But now, he's here and very much alive, denied the peace he had been promised when they both surrendered to the glaives of ancient kings. Ardyn had every right to be angry.

Noctis shifted his weight between his feet, curling his fingers together behind his back. He carefully threw a sidelong glance at the man — his husband, he reminded himself. “You're not… Upset?”

“Oh, very. I cannot believe I let you pick  _ gray _ carpet over my choice of burgundy.” Ardyn made a show of digging his heel into the floor. 

Noctis almost wanted to laugh. He admitted he liked Ardyn and his wit a lot more like this, now with everything done and over, when his tone lacked that sharp and cruel hints laced at the corners. But he only huffed an indignant groan and ran his hands down his face, shaking his head in exasperation. He was trying to be tactful, yet Ardyn wasn't going to let things be that easy for him. 

“You know what I mean! Two thousand years, and you were supposed to have your peace. But now you're here, clearly not dead and stuck with me.”

“True, but that's all in the past, now isn't it?” 

“You can't be serious,” Noctis deadpanned. 

“Very. Tell me, Noctis, how do  _ you _ feel about all this? Do you still hate me for all the sins I've committed? The flames and desolation?”

Noctis’ temper flared. Wow, alright, rub salt in his wounds. “I —”

“Be honest.” Ardyn took to circling around Noctis, slow and unnerving like a predatory cat, and forcing the other to stop his carpet-burning pacing. 

“Yeah, but that wasn't you! Not really, with all that Scourge in you and everything.” From his time in the Crystal, he had seen who Ardyn had once been, a self-sacrificing healer who only wanted to save the world. That didn't mean all his crimes were excusable, but Noctis understood.

“That wasn't the question. I ask again: do you hate  _ me? _ ”

Noctis opened his mouth, floundered for a moment when his mind drew up a blank, and promptly clamped it shut. He didn't hate him. For some inexplicable reason, he couldn't find any traces of the fire that had once fueled him in his quest for vengeance and ascension. He found it strangely concerning and ominously…  _ Natural.  _ As if the idea of ever hating Ardyn repulsed him. And that gave him super weird vibes. “No? I don't really… I don't think so.” He twisted his mouth into a grimace, not entirely keen with how the words tasted. 

Ardyn, though, seemed more comfortable with it all, and his confession slipped out easily enough. “And neither I, you. I never hated you, just so you know. But you have an absolutely uncanny resemblance to my brother, and I'll admit I took some of that out on you. So sorry.” 

“But I digress. Dig deeper, Noctis, is there anything else you feel?” As if to help him out, Ardyn stopped in front of him and pressed a hand right over Noctis’ heart. He tipped his head forward ever so slightly and arched a brow, showing off a knowing sly smile. 

“Uh. I — um, kinda. Maybe. A little.” Noctis stammered, and he knew it was more than just ‘a little.’ And Ardyn knew too. They both did. He weakly fought against the coiling flutters in his chest, where it almost seems to radiate from Ardyn's hand and down to the pits of his stomach, and tried to push back the memories of teenage crushes and nights spent sneaking out to entice Ardyn, often driving to Phoenix Park in his dad's ‘borrowed’ Regalia. 

It was so jarring. The way this current life just seemed to wash over whatever grief and pains he had in his previous incarnation, bleached them clean with joy and love. 

Ah. That made sense. 

If  _ this _ was what Noctis felt, then Ardyn should be no different; it explained why his nemesis-turned-husband seemed so amiable. 

As he clicked the pieces together, the realization must have shown on his face, as Ardyn hummed in approval and pulled away to pick up a framed photo on the nightstand. “As far as I remember, we don't have little rascals running around and calling us daddy dearests.”

Noctis choked. “W-what?” 

“I think it's rather important to know if we have children or not. Would you like to adopt one or two? I'm not entirely against having a little one of my own.”

“Are you serious? Really? Of all the things we need to be talking about, you're talking about kids!”

“Well, considering we're a married pair and all —”

“Oh my god.” Again, Noctis hid his face behind his hands and groaned in embarrassment. Actually, scratch everything. If he had to live out the rest of his days with Ardyn, then he wanted a divorce. 

“I rather like the idea of a girl and a boy. Being an only child would be rather lonesome, don't you think?” 

Alright. Forget the divorce lawyer. He would need a defense attorney for murder charges instead. Though regrettably, that'd ruin his chances in his run for governor. 

Wait. 

“I'm a politician?!” Noctis shrieked into the air, jerking his face up from his hands. It would explain why he had an insane number of suits and the posters stashed in the corner of their closet. Damn this universe's Noctis. Of everything that would follow him past his death, it would be politics that stuck to his heels like cement, King or not. 

“There, there, dear husband. At least the polls show you're giving the others a run for their money.” Ardyn patted him on the back, but his tone was dangerously close to mocking. 

Noctis sniffed and peeked between his fingers to glance at Ardyn, who wore nothing but a wicked glint in his eye. 

“So about adopting.”

Noctis catapulted himself at the bed and screamed into the pillows. 


End file.
